As you walk back into the living room with the two glasses of wine you see that Sarah has positioned herself across the couch. The small towel showing off her strap of her thong and her firm shaply leg. One arm is over her eyes as her head rests on one of the arm rests. The other has slipped under the tight cotton T shirt and is playing with one other breasts.
You think the Spanish Fly is finally working. You put the two glasses down on the coffee table and watch as she pulls and pinches her nipple under the tight T shirt. The arm over her eyes falls away as she turns and sees the bulge in your pants from the hardon you're getting from watching her play with her breast.
"Oh Daddy! I can't tell you how long I've waited for this moment!" Sarah says as she gets off the couch, letting the towel hit the floor, and wraps her arms around you.
You feel her large firm breasts press against your chest. You would've thrown her on the couch and had your way with her right then and there if it wasn't for what she had just called you. Being called Daddy took all the steam you were building up away from you. As you gently pull her away, you ask, "Why did you just call me Daddy?"
"I'm sorry, would you prefer master.?" Sarah asks, hanging her head in shame and submission.
"Don't change the subject. Why did you call me Daddy?" You say a little more sternly.
"Until I started babysitting for you the only man that I ever fantasized about was my Dad. I know it was wrong but I couldn't help it. Then when I saw how your little girl ran up to you and hugged you. The way you held her and praised her. It melted my heart. I started having wet dreams about you as my dad but in a more intimate manner. So when you had me put on your daughter's T shirt I thought you had the same feeling for me. I'm sorry if I embarassed you. I'll get my clothes and leave."
As Sarah gets up to leave, you reach out and grab her hand. |